A Day In The Rain
by Dairi
Summary: Charlie has to walk home from school...how bad can it be? -On Temp. Hiatus; see profile-
1. A Rainy Day

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything to do with the show Numb3rs.

A/N - This is set a few seasons ago, before Charlie had gotten his driver's license back. Keep that in mind. Other than that, it might be kind of mushy, but I hope y'all enjoy reading! I also haven't decided whether or not to continue it yet, or leave it as is. Please let me know what you think.

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Charlie smiled just a little as he finished up the last of the paper work he had to do for this evening. It had been a very long day, and he couldn't wait to get home. Glancing at the clock, he noted it was about twenty minutes to nine. Time had gone by so fast. Stretching, he stood from his desk and filed away the papers he had just completed, also packing what he wanted to take home in his own bag.

It was at this time that a sound from outside caught his attention. He walked over to the window, opened the blinds, and sighed. Just what he needed to end the day – it was pouring rain. A flash of bright light followed by a deep rumble; yes, even better. It was a thunderstorm. Charlie closed the blinds and walked back over to his things. He made sure his bag was zipped up tight, slung it over his shoulder, turned out the lights and locked the door. He had no umbrella and besides that, no way to attach it to his bike. It was going to be a wet ride home.

Professor Eppes finally made it outside and dashed over to his bike. Even in the drenching rain, as he was unchaining it, he noticed something, something that caused him to curse out loud. His bike had a flat tire. Charlie got down on the wet pavement and studied the damage for a moment. He couldn't ride it home like this, more so with this weather. So, instead of riding his bike home, he and the bike would walk.

Charlie hung his head low as he steered his bike off the school grounds and towards the street and walkways that led home. The sudden, bright glow of sheet lightning caused Charlie to look up. The deft rumble of thunder, plus the fat raindrop that made a point of landing in his eye, made Charlie furiously shake his head; and from then after, he kept his head down.

Suddenly, in the middle of the sidewalk, Charlie's foot came into contact with something slippery and of a mushy texture. This, accompanied by a particularly bright flash of lightning and a loud snap of thunder, sent the young mathematician on a backward fall. He was able to catch himself with his right elbow, but in the process of falling, he had lost his grip on his bike. It fell right on top of him.

On his back, thoroughly soaked in all the pouring rain, Charlie made a small, mournful sound. It just was not his day. He lay there a few moments, staring up at the clouds, wondering what else could go wrong in the usually short time it took to get to his house. Carefully, Charlie disentangled himself from the bike and stood up. He sucked in a small breath as his right arm grabbed for the corresponding handlebar. His elbow protested the movement, meaning Charlie had probably bruised it in the fall. Oh well, there was nothing currently to be done about it, and what much can one do about a bruise, anyway? Charlie continued on.

Not five minutes later, Charlie heard a yell from somewhere up ahead. He looked up to see another bicyclist coming straight at him, and fast. Charlie dragged his bike with him as he jumped to the side, only then noticing there were about three other bicyclists after the initial one. Charlie moved aside even more to allow them an easier pass – he was now standing off to the side, in the grass. The last bicyclist, the one furthest back, looked up at Charlie and grinned.

"Hey man, one little rainstorm too much for you? What did you do, crash on a drain?" The person called out, as they went racing past. Charlie stared after them for a few moments, wondering first why they were out in pouring rain and going so fast...and second if that person had really expected him to understand what had been said.

Charlie was just about to move back on the path and continue home, when a shout from behind him caused him to turn around.

"Hey, you! Get off'a my grass!" It was an elderly woman almost hanging out her window; which, yes, had an overhang. She shook her hand at Charlie. "Yes, you! Go on, get!"

"S-sorry," Charlie muttered, scrambling to get back on the sidewalk and out of this area. People around here weren't too nice.

Charlie let out a small sigh of relief. He had made it to the curb without further interference. Now, he just needed to cross the street. Charlie looked left, right, then left again and, seeing no traffic, stepped out onto the road. At that moment, a van cam barreling past from the right, laying on the horn. Charlie jumped and nearly dropped his bicycle for the second time as he made a mad dash for the curb that was not even five inches behind him.

Charlie heaved a sigh and willed his heart to resume a normal pace, now that he and his bike were safely back on the curb. Okay, let's try this again...

Charlie looked both ways; it was clear, so he stepped out.

Again, a vehicle came out of no where, also laying on the horn as it sped past. This one, though, came from the other direction and therefore, Charlie was hit with a wall of water. Charlie blinked a few times, shook himself off and growled.

"Is this a cross walk, or a death trap?" Charlie muttered to himself, shaking as much water as he could from his hands and face. Not that it helped any; the rain was literally coming down in sheets.

This time, Charlie looked left, then right, and sprinted towards the curb on the other side. He gave a small, satisfied snort as he made it safely up the curb and down the sidewalk. Now, as he was walking the final stretch, thankful there were no more streets to cross, the discomfort of his current situation was finally getting to him. He was soaked to the bone and shivering.

Charlie stopped here a moment, for parked right in front of his house, was his big brother's black SUV. What was Don doing here? Charlie chose to ignore that thought for the moment, for he so badly desired to be in a warm and cozy place, inside, away from the rain. Charlie propped his bike up against the house, then turned and ran in the back door. Charlie paused just inside, shivering and dripping with water. Charlie shut and locked the door, and looked around for something to dry off with.

"Is that Charlie?" He heard Alan call from inside, probably sitting on the couch. At that moment the door opened.

"Hey, Chuck!" Don looked as if he were going to say something more, but wisely stopped there. Don found it very hard to keep a smile off his face. His little brother currently looked very much akin to a drowned rat. Charlie was glaring at Don in-amidst a tangle of drenched curls. Charlie's clothes were completely soaked through, making Don briefly wonder how many buckets of water would be made in wringing those out. The thing he couldn't laugh at, though, was the way his younger brother was shivering.

"Don't call me Chuck." Charlie responded shortly, wanting nothing more than to go up stairs, change clothes, and spend the rest of the night under the comfort of his covers; curled up with a math book, blank notebook, and plenty of pencils and pens, of course.

Charlie brushed past Don and headed for the stairs.

"Is everything all right, Charlie?" Alan's next call made him pause, however briefly, until Don came up and grabbed Charlie's elbow to stop him from ascending the stairs. Unfortunately, Don grabbed Charlie's right elbow. Surely he had caught the fleeting look of pain that crossed Charlie face, because Don let him go only a second later, acting as if he had been burned.

"Yeah, buddy, it looks like you walked home. What happened?" Don asked, trying not to make his brother any angrier than he obviously already was.

"Actually, I did walk home. And in case you hadn't noticed, it is pouring rain outside." Charlie shot back, turning again to go upstairs.

"What happened to your bike?" Alan asked, watching as his youngest son paused on the stairs.

"It has another flat, dad. The second in less than one month!" Charlie huffed, closing his eyes briefly as he shook his head.

"How long have you had that bike – a decade? Maybe two?"

"Eight years. Almost eight years, Don." Charlie couldn't help responding, but his voice was growing softer. Now that he was inside, away from the cold rain, it felt like someone had just taken a vacuum and sucked out all his energy. Alan and Don watched carefully as Charlie's hand wavered over the banister, and certain emotions played out over his face. Scaring the two of them into silence were the looks of both pain and defeat.

"What exactly happened out there, Charlie?" Don asked gently, level with Charlie on the other side of the banister.

Charlie's hand clamped down # the banister, and when he spoke again his voice was much stronger, a fire in his eyes. He was determined not to let his father and brother see him like this. How was he to explain exactly what had happened just a few moments ago, anyway? Don dealt with much worse things on a day-to-day basis; who was Charlie to get upset about one silly walk through the rain?

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Charlie said no more, ignoring both his father and brother as he continued up the stairs and out of sight.

"Something's definitely bothering him." Don observed, his eyes still on the top of the stairs.

"Mmhm, why don't you go ask him?" Alan suggested, throwing his oldest son a pointed glance up the stairs when Don turned to stare at him.

Don sighed, "Fine, fine. I'm goin'." Don mumbled as he reluctantly climbed the stairs and headed for his brother's room.

--

Charlie collapsed on the bed upon entering his room, having used up about 97 of his remaining energy in just getting up the steps. Charlie had just repositioned himself to a sitting position when Don's form appeared in his doorway. Charlie looked up and gave him a skeptical look. Don caught and held Charlie's gaze, until Charlie broke it by looking down less than a minute later. Don had seen the look of anguish in his little brother's eyes, and he very much wanted to know why it was there. He knew there was no way Charlie was just going to tell his brother, Don would have to find some way around it. Squaring his shoulders, Don stepped inside and sat next to his brother.

"I heard it'll be raining again tomorrow." Don said; whatever reaction he had been expecting from Charlie, it wasn't quite the one he received. Charlie moaned and covered his face with his hands.

"Hey, you know I could come pick you up tomorrow, since your bike has a flat and all. 'Round what time are you finished with classes?"

Charlie was silent for a few moments, not moving at all. Don was beginning to wonder if he'd said the wrong thing, and was about to open his mouth to counteract his previous words, when Charlie finally moved. Charlie took his hands away from his face and smiled slightly, turning to look up at Don.

"Yeah, that'd be fine. Come around 7:30."

"I'll be there." Don smiled back, gripping Charlie's shoulder lightly. "I promise. You won't have to walk home in the rain again. Plus, dad wouldn't like it if I let you get sick."

Charlie managed to crack a feeble smile, though he wasn't feeling much inside. "Thanks, Don. I really appreciate it." he paused, then, "But, if you don't mind...I'd really like to change." Charlie explained, weakly tugging at the still wet collar of his shirt. Don laughed and nodded.

"I'll take that as my cue to leave," he said as he stood up. Then his cell phone rang. Laughing sheepishly, he walked to the doorway, paused, and turned briefly to say, "See you tomorrow, Charlie." then answered his phone as he shut Charlie's door.

"Yeah. See you then, Don." Charlie whispered to the empty room. He only hoped his brother would remember, for he knew Don could sometimes get distracted due to his work and forget. Oh well, Larry or Amita could probably drop him off if – or when – Don didn't show.


	2. The Next Day

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own anything.

Thank you, very much, to everyone that reviewed! I decided I post another chapter...hope y'all enjoy.

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Charlie had unknowingly slept in the next morning. Alan came up to see if he wanted a ride to school at about 7 in the morning, only to find his youngest still asleep. Smiling to himself, Alan walked in and gently shook Charlie's shoulder.

"Charlie, wake up." Alan coaxed, but Charlie didn't budge.

"Charlie, son, time to get up." Alan said, a little more loudly this time. Charlie rolled over and moaned, looking up groggily at his father.

"Dad? What time is it...?" Charlie asked, finishing in a yawn.

"It's a little past seven in the morning. Don't you have a class at eight thirty?" Alan asked, watching in amusement as Charlie's eyes widened and a look of terror crossed his face as he fumbled to get out of bed.

"Why didn't you wake me up earlier, dad? I'm going to be late!" Charlie cried with a hint of desperation in his voice. Alan shook his head.

"Charlie, you've still got over an hour. And you're not going anywhere without breakfast!" Alan called after his son, standing as Charlie disappeared down the hallway.

After a shower and light breakfast, Alan drove Charlie to the school. It was still raining this morning.

"Thanks, pops." Charlie grinned and opened the door even as Alan put on the parking break.

"Are you sure you don't need a ride home? I'm sure Stan won't mind if I take a few minutes to drop you off at home..."

"No, dad. It's fine, Don's picking me up, remember?" Charlie said, smiling as he got out. "Don't worry about me, just have fun! Stan's paying for dinner, right?"

Alan nodded. "Yes, but-"

"Just have fun!" Charlie repeated with a laugh, and closed the door before he could hear his father's reply. Charlie promptly turned and bolted for the college entrance before this insistent rain drenched him for a second time in as many days.

The hours passed by, and eventually, the time came to clean up and head home. The bruise on his elbow was more sensitive today, but he believed no one had really noticed, or else not said anything. Which was good, because Charlie didn't really want to go into explaining it. Charlie had already said good-bye to both Larry and Amita, promising them both he didn't need a ride home. Larry had offered to stay with him until Don showed, but Charlie wouldn't have it. And so now Charlie stood just inside the glass doors, watching and waiting for his older brother to come. Charlie was off a little sooner than he expected, it was about 10 minutes before 7:30, but he didn't mind waiting.

The minutes ticked by. 7:30 came and went, and Don was no where in sight.

7:35...7:40.

Still no signs of Don.

7:45...7:50.

Don was late now. Had he forgotten?

7:55...8:00.

Don was now thirty minutes late and Charlie was still waiting. The math professor sighed and leaned against the wall, eventually sliding to the floor.

8:05...8:10.

Charlie held his head in his hands. Don had forgotten. His big brother had forgotten to pick him up, again.

8:15...8:20.

Charlie really wasn't looking forward to walking home in the cold rain a second time. What was Don up to, he wondered?

8:25...8:30.

Okay. Now he was an hour late. There was no hope. Charlie reluctantly stood and prepared himself for another long walk home. Yes, he could call Don and ask what was going on, but he didn't want to sound needy. It was just a little rain. And so, without further thought, Charlie set out.

--

Don really disliked paperwork. Make it two stacks almost a foot high each, and he loathed paperwork. This is what he had been doing most of the day, besides a mandatory meeting around noon. Don was currently tapping his pen against the desk, staring at the paper in front of him. What exactly were they asking him to say here...? Don sighed and covered his face with his hands; at least he was pretty much finished with the first stack. He'd tackle the second tomorrow, after sleep. Suddenly, Don felt a tap on his shoulder, and looked up to see Megan there.

"Hey, Don. Everyone's getting ready to head home, and you look like you could use some rest, too." Megan said, eyeing the stacks of paper on either side of Don's desk. David had already left about five minutes ago, which left Megan, Colby, and Don the only ones still in the room.

"Yeah, I know...what time is it?" Don asked. As the day had gone on, Don couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something, something very important.

"Almost 8:30. IWay/I past quitin' time, if you ask me." Granger said, speaking up from his seat across the room.

"8:30..." Don trailed off as he repeated the words. Then, his eyes widened as he remembered.

"8:30! I'm an hour late!" Don bellowed, springing up from his chair while grabbing his jacket off the back of said chair. Don ran out the door while trying to locate his cell and at the same time put on his jacket. Megan and Colby stared after Don's abrupt exit for about a full ten seconds, then glanced at each other and shrugged. Neither had any idea of what their boss was an hour late for.

Don skipped the elevator and ran down the stairs, one arm in the jacket and the other flipping through the contacts in his cell. Finally finding his brother, he hit send and switched hands, then brought it up to his ear as he finished putting on his jacket. Jumping off the last three steps, Don raced towards the parking garage and only hoped his brother would forgive him.

--

Charlie had only made it about fifteen paces from the safe, warm and dry haven of the school when his cell phone rang. Charlie dug it out of his pocket, saw who was on the Call I.D. and bit back a groan. It was his brother, no doubt calling because he had just realized he'd forgotten to pick Charlie up. Charlie considered his options; if he didn't answer it, he might get more of a lecture from both his father and brother about the importance of picking up the phone if it is one of them; and if he did answer it, he'd only have to talk to Don. Charlie decided to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Charlie! Just sit tight, okay? I'm on my way over there."

"Don, don't worry about it. I waited on you for over an hour, so now I'm walking home."

"Look, I'm sorry for not coming sooner, really. I had planned on--"

"Forget it. I'm already pretty wet, just, forget it, Don." Charlie cut off any further discussion by ending the call.

Charlie had successfully crossed one street without any troubles, for which he was very thankful. Charlie looked up ahead to see a young woman coming his way with an umbrella. She stopped a few steps ahead of him and titled her head, making a little giggly-laugh type noise, before she said,

"Silly, what are you doing out in the rain, with no umbrella?"

"I didn't think I'd need one," Charlie responded in a depressed tone, as he sidestepped and passed her.

"It's been raining for two days, how..." Charlie couldn't hear the rest of what she'd said, as her voice was soon drowned out by the pounding rain. At least it wasn't storming this time. Charlie slouched slightly and stuck his hands in his pockets as he continued along his path toward home, his eyes glued to the pavement before him. In his mind's eye, he calculated exactly where and when each new raindrop would come down, how great of a splat it would make, and so on...until he realized he was now at the edge of a curb.

Charlie looked up to find himself at the dreaded intersection, the one he had had so much trouble with the previous day. Charlie glanced to his left, then his right, saw no on-coming traffic and sped across. Just as he was about to step onto the opposite curb, Charlie heard a loud honk somewhere behind him. Charlie didn't have time to turn and look, before a black SUV appeared at the edge of his line of vision. Charlie stopped and his jaw nearly fell open as he saw, and recognized the driver.

Hadn't Don taken any of the hints over the cell phone? Now his brother had wasted his time by coming all the way over here, because Charlie was not going to take his charity. Not today. Charlie ignored him and continued walking.

Don didn't give up, either. He rolled down the window and called out to Charlie. Charlie stopped again and turned to him.

"Home is less than a block away! What do you want, Don?"

"Hey, I promised I would give you a ride, and it'll get you out of the rain for a few minutes. So get in here!" Don hollered, glancing ahead and in his mirrors to make sure he wasn't blocking traffic. No one was on the street but them, it seemed.

"I'll get your seats wet, do you want that?" Charlie called back, though he took a step towards the SUV.

"Do I look like I care? Don't make me come over there and drag you in here!" Don retorted, hoping that would convince his brother to listen to him. Charlie resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but finally decided it was simply best to comply.

"Fine!" Charlie snapped, walked over to the vehicle and climbed in the passenger side door.

"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Don asked, smiling at Charlie as he shut the door and buckled up.

"Just drive." Charlie mumbled, folding his arms across his chest and looking out the side windows with a pout. Don's spirits took a nosedive at seeing just how upset with him his younger brother was. As they drove along in silence, Don began to wonder if Charlie would ever forgive him. Don pulled into the driveway, and even before he put it in park, Charlie already had the door open and was getting out.

"Charlie, wait!" Don called out, trying to make Charlie stop before his little brother would again get soaked by the rain. To his surprise, Charlie did stop, and even turned to Don and looked at him with an, 'I'm waiting,' expression on his face.

"Charlie, I...you know I was planning on, and had every intention of picking you up this evening, right?"

"Sure I do. I know things come up from time to time, and I know your job is very important. Don't worry, Don. I understand." Charlie said, and again started to get out.

"Even if my job is important, it's no excuse to breaking a promise. I'm sorry, I lost track of time, buddy. I really am sorry." Don tried again.

"And I said I understand." Charlie paused, glancing down at his hands, then stepped down onto the driveway. "Let's forget about this, okay?" he suggested, smiling slightly as he shut the car door and headed for the house.

"There's got to be a way to make it up to him," Don whispered to himself, hands dangling off the steering wheel as his eyes followed his brother. His eyes then fell upon Charlie's bicycle, the one that seemed to be continuously breaking down.

And suddenly, an idea came to mind.

--

Charlie entered the house, not even bothering to shut the door because he knew Don was right behind him. Charlie looked up to find Alan right there, with a worried look on his face.

"Where were you two? I was worried when I came home and you weren't here, Charlie." Alan paused, taking in his son's soaked appearance. "Was Donnie late again?" Alan asked, skeptically. Charlie nodded and carefully picked his way around his father to the stairs.

"Let him explain it." Charlie responded dryly, just as Don entered the house, and finally shut the door.

"Donnie, I understand you are to blame for Charlie coming home soaking wet once again?" Alan asked, giving his oldest son a 'look.' Don frowned and looked down, slowly nodding once.

"I admit that, yes, but I had every intention of picking him up..."

"On time? So as to do him a favor, which turned out it may have been better if you hadn't offered at all?"

Don winced slightly; Alan sounded mad.

"Dad, Charlie's a grown man and can make decisions for himself. He could have called!" Don shot back, and it was true. Don probably wouldn't have been late, if only Charlie had called him. Alan didn't look impressed.

"Donnie, you promised Charlie you would meet him there. You should know how important breaking promises is, especially to family..."

Don looked around as he droned out the rest of Alan's speech, trying to think of something to distract his father. This is when he noticed Charlie hadn't gone up the stairs yet. He was sitting at the base of the stairs, his right hand wrapped around the banister poll. He was facing away from them, so Don couldn't see his face.

"Charlie?" Don asked, the worry in his voice immediately stopping Alan's rant. Alan turned to see what had Don concerned, just as Charlie, waveringly, stood up and glanced over his shoulder at them.

"What?" he asked, though it wasn't very loud, and slowly turned to head up the stairs. He took one step up. To Don it looked like Charlie could fall at any minute.

"Hey, buddy, you feelin' all right?" Don asked, taking the few short steps over to the railing of the stairs. Alan followed suit. Charlie had his attention focused on the steps beneath him; it didn't seem he had heard his elder brother. Don watched Charlie silently for a few moments, ready to catch him through the banister if he fell. Charlie was just hovering there, eyes on the floor, not saying anything. Then, he blinked once, and Don could make out one word: "C-cold..."

Charlie's knees buckled, no longer able to hold up his slight form. Alan let out a surprised yelp, consisting of his youngest son's name, as he dashed forward to catch Charlie. In the same moment Don reached out and grabbed his little brother by the shoulder.

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A/N - I realize now that it probably would have taken Don more time to get from his work to the house, so ... Don't ask me how Don got to the house so quickly...it is my story, after all. Heheh. Anyways, if you want more, please review!


	3. That Evening

A/N - Thanks everyone for the reviews! It's nice to know people are reading and enjoying it, and that keeps me going. So, here is the next chapter!

**Disclaimer - I don't own anything.**

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"Let's get him to the couch," Alan stated, carefully supporting Charlie as Don released his grip. Don hurried over to the couch and moved a few things off of it, then helped his father set Charlie down on it.

"Hey, buddy? What's goin' on?" Don asked, crouching down as Alan went off to get a blanket. Charlie was still visibly shaking. Frowning, Don studied his little brother's face. Charlie's eyes were closed and both his hands were clasped into tight fists, in what Don suspected was an effort to keep off the shivers. Don's stomach churned with the thought that he could have helped to prevent his little brother's current ills, had he not been so caught up in the paper work. Some older brother he was.

"Charlie, you all right?" Don quietly asked again, this time patting Charlie on the shin lightly to get a response. Charlie stopped shivering slightly and cracked his eyes open. His eyes locked with Don's, then Charlie blinked and looked around.

"How'd...how'd I get here?" Charlie asked, confusion evident in his voice. Charlie licked his lips, his throat suddenly coarse. Before Don responded, Charlie huddled closer in on himself, hugging his arms around his knees and resting his forehead on his legs.

"We need to get you out of those wet clothes before you catch the flu, Charlie." Alan reminded the two as he came up with a blanket.

"Yeah, I can go grab something of his from up stairs..." Don started, but was cut off by an indignant Charlie.

"I can do that! I'm fully capable of changing my own clothes, thank you." Charlie grumbled, and sprang up from the couch. Thanks to Don's quick reflexes, he was up and able to prevent himself and his brother from toppling to the floor. Don had a hand on either side of Charlie's shoulders, and looked into his eyes as he spoke.

"Charlie, buddy, I know you're completely capable of changing your own clothes, but let me at least help you up stairs. Okay?" Don asked, hoping Charlie would agree. Or else Charlie wasn't going upstairs.

Charlie squinted at Don, glanced towards the stairs, and looked back at his brother. Charlie shrugged and sighed, lowering his head as he turned towards the stairs.

"Glad you see things my way." Don said, grinning as he and Charlie headed towards the stairs. More than once, Charlie had fallen back into his big brother, but had insisted Don not help him, and let Charlie get back on his own feet without help. It had taken about fifteen minutes and a few 'encouraging' words from Don, but finally they made it up.

Charlie went into his room and immediately sat down on the bed, looking a lot worse than he had down on the couch. Don watched as Charlie closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. Silently, Don walked over to Charlie's wardrobe and pulled out a shirt with light, breathable material, and a comfortable pair of pants. Don tapped Charlie on the shoulder and pointed next to him, where Don had put the things on his bed.

"I'll be outside if you need me," Don said softly, smiled and walked out, closing the door after him with a soft click. Charlie stared at the closed door for a few minutes, and then slowly set about to his task, thankful his shirt was a button-up.

Sometime later, Don wasn't really keeping track, he heard a soft rap on the door behind him. He turned and slowly opened it to find Charlie there in his new set of clothes, staring at the floor.

"You didn't have to knock. You could have just opened it." Don pointed out, smiling slightly. "Feel better?"

"I know...didn't want to startle you." Charlie said, and paused. He merely responded "Yeah," to Don's question, accompanying it with a weak smile in hopes to convince Don he really was feeling better. Don saw right through the act.

"Charlie, we can stay up here. I'll ask dad to make some warm, home-made chicken soup while you get some rest. I'll wake you up when it's done. How's that sound?" Don asked, deciding it would not be good for Charlie to brave the stairs again just yet.

"Sure; I mean, yeah, if dad's all right with it..." Charlie muttered in response, briefly glancing up at Don.

"Yeah, I'm sure he is. You know dad loves cooking for us. I'll go check with him now, why don't you get settled in bed and I'll be up again soon?" Don suggested, and watched as Charlie nodded and retreated back into his room and climbed in bed. After Don was sure Charlie would be okay, he went downstairs to check with their father.

"How's Charlie doing?" Alan asked, once Don had entered the kitchen.

"Not so good. I think he's either already sick, or well on the way." Don said, leaning against the counter as he watched his father.

"Really? I should get out the thermometer, then, shouldn't I?" Alan said, turning to search through a few draws until he found it.

"Wouldn't be a bad idea." Don mumbled, moving aside to allow Alan to pass. "I'll get started on a soup."

"I'll be back in a few minutes to salvage what's left, okay? Just try not to catch anything on fire until I'm done with your brother." Alan commented with a straight face as he passed Don and left the kitchen.

"Hey, that's Charlie's way of cooking, not mine!" Don responded, but Alan was already gone.

By the time Alan had re-entered the kitchen area, Don had a pot of something simmering on the stove. Alan walked up next to him and sniffed the air.

"Hm, smells good. What is it?"

"Soup." Don responded, quite plainly. Alan merely laughed and went over to the sink to rinse the thermometer off. Then Alan stopped and turned to Don.

"You were right, Donnie."

"About what?" Don asked, looking up from stirring the so-called soup.

"Charlie has a fever. 99.8, to be exact." Alan told him, turning back to dry off and help his son with the soup, but left the thermometer out.

"99.8, that's not too bad." Don said with a shrug, willfully letting his father take over the cooking duties.

"Let's just hope it doesn't get any higher." Alan said, then busied himself with adding the proper ingredients to the soup. About fifteen minutes later, Alan sent Don upstairs to ask Charlie if he was hungry and ready to eat. As Don ascended the stairs, he wondered if Charlie would still be mad at him. He would have to talk to dad later about his idea, and even if Charlie was cool with him now, Don would still go through with it. It would be a nice surprise.

Don stopped in front of his little brother's door, knocked once and quietly pushed it open. Don bit back a laugh at the scene before him. Charlie was fast asleep. Part of Charlie's head and one hand that was still clutching a pen hung over the bed and a notebook lay open on the floor just beneath, while the rest of him was sprawled out diagonally across the bed.

Don silently strode over to his brother's side, gently eased the pen from his grasp and grabbed the notebook, putting both down on the nightstand. Then he carefully turned Charlie so that the whole of him was easily on the bed, and not at an angle. Charlie made a noise that Don couldn't quite decipher as Don moved him, but otherwise he showed no signs of waking. When Don's fingers brushed against Charlie's forehead, he paused. Should his skin really be that hot? He was lying in bed under the covers, but still...his fever might have gone up. Charlie shuddered under the cool touch of his brother's hand and tried to pull away, immediately curling up on his side, while at the same time pulling at the covers. It looked like he was cold.

"Hold tight for just a minute, buddy, I'll be right back to check your temp." Don murmured, to himself more than anything as he stood and left the room. He doubted Charlie had even known Don was there.

"What'd he say?" Alan asked, watching as his eldest went past him, in search of something it looked like.

"He was asleep." Don paused, glanced at his dad, then scanned the counters. "Just a crazy thought, but I thought we should check his temp again...dad, where'd you put oh, there it is." Don mumbled to himself, reached over to grab the object he'd been searching for, and left the room without receiving a response from his father. Alan had doubted he'd expected one, and shrugged to himself as he went about spooning up soup portions for himself and Don.

Only a few minutes later Don came back downstairs, and Alan could see the slightly worried look in his eyes.

"Hey, dad, what did you say Charlie's temp was the last time you took it?" Don asked, thermometer still in hand as he stopped in the doorway.

"99.7; why? Has it gone up?" Alan asked, now worried himself.

"Yeah, it did. 100.4."

"Oh, hm...did you ask him if he wants a wet washcloth, or fluffed pillows, a fan maybe...?"

"Dad, I don't think there's much we can do for him right now. He was still pretty out of it when I took his temp; I doubt he could give us reasonable answers. Let's eat first, then worry about Chuck." Don suggested, washed off the thermometer and put it back on the counter, then turned towards the steaming bowls of soup and grinned.

"Smells good."

"Why yes, it does smell a lot better than what you were cooking before, doesn't it?" Alan asked, grabbing his bowl as he high-tailed it out to the dining room area. Don reluctantly followed him.

"Aw, come on, I'm not THAT bad a cook! ... Am I?" Don asked, sitting next to Alan. The only response he got was a laugh.


	4. And It Begins

A/N: AHHH! I am SO SORRY this has taken so incredibly long, dur...I wonder if anyone is still reading/interested in this? 'Tis been so long, well over a year I think. Real life can get busy and all that. I am trying to finish this one up though. Please, if anyone thinks this is still worth continuing, please let me know.

Many thanks to Beth! You really did rather help me get this kick started again, though I still took my sweet 'ol time. Pff. Anyways.

**Disclaimer: I still own nothing! Not even the soft drinks mentioned in this chapter. Nothing, I tell you!**

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Early the next morning, Don had already eaten, showered and changed, and so went in to check on Charlie at around 6 o'clock. To his surprise, he found his little brother sitting on the side of the bed with his head in his hands. The covers were a mess behind him, and from here Don couldn't see Charlie's pillow.

"Charlie?" Don asked softly, upon entering the room. He could see Charlie's body tense, then slowly Charlie removed his hands from his face and looked at his brother.

"How're you feeling today, bro?" Don asked, kneeling at Charlie's side. Charlie blinked at him, started to shake his head, winced and stopped.

"Threw up last night," Charlie whispered with a grimace, one hand still over his stomach.

"Ah. Well, it's the first step to recovery. Anything I can help with? Do you want some water?" Don asked, rubbing his hand up and down Charlie's arm. Charlie slowly shook his head.

"No, but-" Charlie swallowed hard, and a look of pain flittered across his face. Don was alarmed for a moment, until he realized Charlie was probably trying hard not to throw up again.

"Call Larry...lecture for me. 4:30. Notes in, there." Charlie hurried to say, weakly lifting a hand to point in the direction of his school satchel. Don glanced at it and nodded.

"Sure thing, Charlie. I ll take care of it. Don t worry about anything, just focus on getting better. And be sure to ask dad if you need anything. Okay?" Don waited until Charlie nodded. Smiling, Don patted Charlie on the shoulder, stood up and went to the door.

"I'll see you later, buddy." And with that, Don was gone. Charlie waited a few minutes, until he heard Don's SUV start up, then hurried towards the bathroom.

About an hour later, Alan woke up, and went to check on his son. Charlie was laying on his back, an arm over his eyes. Alan tsked and shook his head, wondering what kind of night his youngest had had with his bed in the current condition. Besides that, upon entering, Alan noticed the pillow on the floor, a foot from the bed. Alan carefully, quietly, sat down next to Charlie and watched him breathing. He could tell Charlie wasn't asleep, but he wasn't exactly awake, either. Finally, Charlie moved his arm and blinked up at his father.

"You want something to drink, Charlie? Some Mountain Dew, Sprite, Mellow Yellow...?" Alan asked, smiling lightly down at Charlie. Charlie frowned and carefully shook his head.

Alan sighed, "You know you won t get better any sooner without drinking extra fluids. Isn't that what the doctor's always say?" Alan asked, not expecting an answer, as he reached up and moved some of the soaked curls off his son' forehead, which was still raidating hear. As expected, Charlie remained silent.

"I'll get you some Sprite." Alan finally said, patted Charlie's cheek, stood and left the room. A while later, Alan came back into the room to find Charlie hadn't changed positions in the slightest, and had his eyes closed. Alan could also tell that he still wasn't asleep. Alan set the cup half-full of Sprite next to the notebook on Charlie's nightstand, and sat next to him again.

"Would you like me to help you move downstairs? Maybe watch a little TV while you recover? The couch is always a good option when either you or Donnie were sick." Alan said, smiling at his own words. He received no response from Charlie. Alan leaned over him and put his hand against Charlie's forehead. Alan's brow furrowed. Alan quickly stood.

"I'll be right back, Charlie, I'm going to get the thermometer." Alan said, to himself, as he ran downstairs and came back up just as fast. Probably the fastest he'd moved in quite some time. Alan again took his seat by his son, but this time tried to get Charlie s head in his lap. Charlie's eyes cracked open and it was quite obvious to him that his son was not feeling good. His eyes were glazed over in his fever-induced state, which probably is what caused the next word to slip out of his youngest son s mouth.

"Mom?" Charlie weakly asked, grabbing for Alan's hand. Alan's heart clenched.

"No, son, it s me, your father. You seem to be doing worse this morning, so I'm taking your temp." Alan said, even though he highly doubted Charlie understood him. Alan put the thermometer in Charlie s mouth, waited for it to start, and pressed the button. Alan watched it carefully, as it skipped 99, sped past 100, and finally began to slow down mid-way through the 101's. 101.5...101.6...101.7...101.8...101.9...102.1.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

If Alan hadn't have raised his children better than that, he would have said a few colorful curse words at that moment. Charlie's fever was pretty high. He could be contagious, and therefore would not be going into work, nor out of the house anytime soon. Except if Alan decided to take him to a Walk-in Clinic, if he didn't start showing signs of getting better rather soon.

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

Alan glanced over the form of his son, and, reluctantly, got up to answer the door. It took Alan a few minutes to get to the door, but he smiled when he saw who it was.

"Larry!" A pause, "What are you doing here? Don't get me wrong, it's always nice to see you, but isn't it a school day?"

"Hello, Mr. Eppes. Yes, yes it is a school day...that's why I m here, actually." Larry said, a small quaver in his voice.

"Oh, well, if it's Charlie you're looking for, he's a little under the weather today. I don't think he'll be coming in."

"Ah, yes, I'm aware that Charles was feeling unwell today. You're older son called me to inform me of that earlier this morning. He also said Charlie had some notes for the lecture that he was supposed to give later today. I, uhm, I came to pick them up." Larry said, tapping his fingers together as he awaited Mr. Eppes' response. Alan nodded and waved him in.

"All right, sure, that makes sense." Alan said, closing the door behind Larry. Larry watched the door close and briefly glanced about the house.

"I have to get going again soon, I have a class in not too long, but Agent Eppes said something about Charles saying the notes were in his bag...might you know where his bag is? Donald neglected to say..."

"Oh, I m sure it s around here somewhere," Alan glanced about the door and the living area, then looked upstairs. "Hm. Maybe it s in his room."

"I can go look, if that s all right." Larry suggested, but Alan was already climbing the stairs. Larry followed him. Alan entered his youngest's room, and after a short search, found the item in question.

"Ah, here it is." Alan picked up Charlie's bag and handed it to Larry. Larry didn't seem to notice.

"Larry?" Alan asked; the sound of his name snapped Larry out of his daze.

"Oh, hum? Yes, the bag, thank you." Larry muttered, taking the bag and doing a light search of the contents, but at once his gaze traveled back to the being on the bed.

"Mr. Eppes, just how bad is Charles illness...?" Larry asked, looking a little forlorn.

"It's not as bad as it may seem. At least, I hope not. His fever is pretty high, and if it gets any higher, I'll be taking him to a Clinic. But as of now, all he needs is some cold fluids. He's a hardy boy, he ll be back on his feet in no time."

Larry let out a grunt-laugh and smiled, "I have no doubt of that, Mr. Eppes. I just hope he isn t suffering too badly right now. He looks quite uncomfortable." Larry said softly, tilting his head as if to get a better view of Charlie.

"'at's cause...I'm sick, if you hadn't noticed." Charlie coughed and grumbled as he rolled over, making his poor colleague, and father, jump. "Please stop talking like I can't hear you." Charlie's ragged voice reminded them. Charlie did his best to glare, but he just didn t have the energy. It came out more as a lazy squint.

"Charles! I, uh, I apologize, truly... but I'm glad you are at least feeling well enough to speak." Larry said, hesitatingly glancing at his watch. Before Alan could say anything, Larry gave a start and moved towards the door.

"Oh, my, time has come and gone so quickly. I should be going before I am late for my class. I'll bring your bag back later, all right, Charles? I'll try very hard not to lose it." Larry mumbled, bowing slightly on his way out. Alan followed Larry out into the hallway, but by that time Larry was already heading down the stairs. Alan merely waved as one of their closet family friends hurriedly exited the house. As Alan re-entered Charlie's room, he said aloud,

"So, do you think you ll be seeing your bag again?"

"Not a chance." Charlie moaned, covering his face with his hands. "I'll have to do...those papers over, again." Alan heard Charlie's muffled voice further complain.

"Well then, let's try not to think about papers or work right now." Alan paused, then, "Are you sure you don't want to go downstairs?"

"I'm fine here," Charlie muttered, shifting to his side. It had taken a lot of energy from him to stay with it enough to converse with them, but he couldn't let his father know that. Charlie heard his father sigh, and presumed he had left the room. The next thing Charlie knew something cold and wet was being placed on his forehead; he furrowed his brows. Though he couldn't deny it felt good against his hot skin, he struggled against it. In his mind, he was back on those California sidewalks, walking through a nasty thunderstorm, completely alone. His father's voice, in an effort to soothe him, turned into rumbles of thunder. The lights in the room, his feverish mind was telling him, flashed above in the dark night sky.

Charlie stood in the midst of the imagined storm, whimpering slightly as his hands shook; he was scared and had no idea how he got here, how he was going to get home. Which direction was home in, anyway? He couldn't see anything! Charlie tried to move, but when nothing happened, he looked down to his feet and his eyes widened. He'd looked down to find that he was no longer on the sidewalk, but in the grass, and said grass was now turning into angry vines right before his eyes, vines that were wrapping themselves securly around his feet.

_What the...?_

Charlie's mind spun, trying to process this new piece of information and figure out what was going on; but for some reason, his mind would not cooperate. He felt panic rising within him; the vines were now tugging at his pant legs but even as he tried to run, not only to get away from the vines but also to get to shelter from this storm, he found he still couldn't move a muscle. Thunder crashed somewhere above. Water was rising around him now; it was as if he had been transported from his neighborhood to the shores of the sea as it rose to high tide. And then lightning, and along with it Charlie could hear more thunder, sounding almost like words, and a voice he should know, but he didn't. The horrid water was trapping him, threatening to engulf him as it crawled up his calves and began nibbling at his fingers, moving up to his wrists, his arms...

Now, Charlie lost it. In his mind, he relinquished a silent scream as he thrashed against the pull of the water, but it would not let him go. No matter how hard Charlie struggled, it held him back and he found he could not break free. The water was still rising - he was going to drown. He could hear the thunder again, and this time knew it was words, he knew it was someone telling him something, but he just didn't have the energy to listen, to discern. Would the person help him out of the water? Charlie let his muscles relax, felt his body drop back into the dreaded water...and suddenly found himself in the bathroom at his father's house, looking up into his father's worried face. And then Charlie's world went black.

"Charlie! Answer me, son! ... Charlie?" Alan gasped, slightly relieved to see Charlie had finally worn himself out. He had merely been talking with him, when he realized the boy was zoning out. He had suggested for Charlie to take a luke-warm bath to help relieve the fever, and he had thought Charlie understood when it had appeared, to Alan at least, that he nodded. Alan had a hard time getting Charlie over to the bathroom, but when Charlie s feet touched the cold floor of the tub, Charlie had begun acting as if he were possessed. Alan had to fight and with a quick response, so as not to let Charlie fall or hurt himself. After a few minutes of Alan pleading with Charlie to calm down, he had finally coaxed Charlie into a sitting position, but Charlie would not give up. Alan still spoke consolingly to his youngest, hoping his voice would break through whatever thoughts were haunting Charlie, and Charlie would come back to the real world. Alan himself had started fearing for everything worthy when Charlie would not respond to him. So, it came as a relief, when Charlie finally stopped fighting against him, albeit he had passed out.

Alan put his hand on Charlie's forehead, to find the fever had probably gone up yet again. The fever was also apparently making Charlie delerious, if this fight just moments ago meant anything. Alan would continue to try lukewarm baths, cold washcloths on his brow, dribbling cool liquids down his youngest son's throat, and everything else he knew of to get the fever down, but if it didn't work, he would reconsider the Walk-in Clinic idea for a lot sooner. Like maybe this afternoon.

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A/N: I hope this chapter was at least somewhat worth the wait! Hopefully the next one won't be nearly as long of a wait...I will try to finish this very soon! Feel free to keep poking me if you have to! lol I may need that.


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